Mind Prey

around her, her hair wild, her eyes large and frightened. The three men pressed in around her, Loring smoking, the smoke gathering around her head; she tried to stand up, once, but Del pushed her back into the chair. Lucas had never seen anything quite like it, an interrogation from a bad movie.
    “How did you talk to him?” Loring asked. “That’s all we want to know. How did you get in touch with him? Was he a patient? Were you treating him?”
    “I don’t know him, I don’t…”
    “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, we know he was a patient. Were you fucking him? Was that it? Is that why you’re protecting him?”
    “I’m not protecting anybody,” she wailed.
    “Aw, c’mon, for christ sakes, he’s gonna go out there and kill your partner, and I’ll tell you what, honey, you’re gonna go into the women’s prison and the dykes out there are gonna make a meal outa you. You don’t wanna spend the rest of your life snuffin’ up strange pussy, you better start talking right now.”
    Del, standing behind her, put his hands over his eyes: Loring was over the edge. Del waved him off, and, playing the soft guy, said, “Listen, darling, I know what it’s like to be attached to somebody. I mean, you get involved with a guy like Mail…”
    “I wasn’t involved,” she shrieked, her head twisting. “I didn’t do anything, Christ, I want a lawyer, I want a lawyer now, you can’t do this.”
    “You’ll get a lawyer when we fuckin’ well say you can,” Loring said, his voice a slap in the face. “Now, what I want to know is how we can reach him. All we want is a phone number, or somebody who can tell us where we can get a phone number.”
    Del’s voice, softer: “We can get you a deal. You’ll do five years. Now, we know one of the girls is dead, and that’s thirty years inside. No parole. You’d be an old…what’s the word?”
    “Crone,” Lucas said.
    “…crone when you get out,” Del said, his voice still soft, still reasonable.
     
    “I WANT MY husband, I want him in here,” Helen Manette wailed. She spent much of the time weeping uncontrollably, and questions were difficult to press.
    Franklin finally got down, on his knees, thrust his face to within an inch of hers, and said, “Listen, bitch, if you don’t shut up, I’m gonna slap the shit out of you. You got that? You shut the fuck up, or I’m gonna stomp a mudhole in your white ass, and I’ll fuckin’ enjoy doing it. Your pal is gonna slice Miz Manette and her daughter into fuckin’ dog food, and I want to know how to stop him, and you’re gonna tell me.”
    “I want my husband…”
    “Your husband doesn’t give a shit about you,” Franklin shouted. “He wants his daughter. He wants his granddaughters. But he’s not gonna get his granddaughters, he’s not gonna get both of them anyway, ’cause you and your pal killed one of them, didn’t you?”
    “Hey, c’mon, take it easy, take it easy,” Sloan said, gently shoving Franklin out of the way. “You’re gonna have a heart attack, man. Let me talk to her.”
    Sloan was sweating, though the room was cool. “Now listen, Miz Manette, we know there are all kinds of stresses in a person’s life, and sometimes we do things we regret. Now we know that your husband is sleeping with Nancy Wolfe, and we know that you know. And we know that if Tower Manette left you, there just wouldn’t be that much to share, would there? Now…”
    Franklin looked at Lucas and shook his head, and Lucas made a keep rolling sign with his hands.
    Franklin nodded and pushed and said to Sloan, “Hey, cut the psychological bullshit, Sloan; you know the bitch did it. Give me two minutes alone with her, and I’ll get it out.” He squatted, his face close to Helen Manette’s, and he turned the partial plate with his tongue. “Two minutes would do it,” he said.
    He chuckled, a long gravelly roll, and Lucas winced.
     
    W OLFE LOOKED AT Lucas and pleaded: “Get me out of here, just get me out of here. Please, get me out.”
    “I could help you, but you’ve got to help us,” Lucas said. “We could use anything. A phone number would be great. An address. How did you get to know him? A little history…”
    “I don’t know him,” she said hoarsely.
    “Let me explain,” Loring said, circling her. Del stood behind her, very close, so she could feel his pants leg near the back of her head. “We know that you’re fucking Tower Manette. We know that Tower Manette’s money is going to